


Moonlight Serenade

by crystallies



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: 1940s, Alternate Universe - 1940s, Alternate Universe - World War II, Delirium, Depression, Drinking, F/M, Gore, M/M, Non-Chronological, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Postpartum Depression, Pregnancy, World War II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-25
Packaged: 2018-02-12 20:10:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2123145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystallies/pseuds/crystallies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set before, after, and during World War II. A chronology of the tangling and snapping of the red string of fate between Annie Leonhardt and Bertholdt Fubar. A romance that flourished and will haunt Annie as she struggles to raise their child alone and to move past his death as echoes of their song play on repeat like a fuzzy vinyl record in her head.</p><p>Rating is for descriptions of battle-related injuries, potential sexual content, depression-induced thought processes, and a general downward spiral into delirium.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dancing Alone

If she closed her eyes tightly enough, she could still see his face as crystal clear as the day he had first looked at her. Sometimes she preferred to think of him that way, smiling and nervous with a few beads of sweat on his temple, tugging at the collar of his shirt before stuttering out her name - beautifully satisfying, those memories of him helped her get by on the harder days.

It was worse when she let her imagination sink its cruel fangs into her, and her mind spun webs of the torment and agony he had to have gone through... Stranded, hungry, worn down by the strain of it all, gunshots and explosions riddling his environment before one claimed him for Death’s cold grip. Reiner tried to tell her he had passed gently, but she backhanded him and he spared her no detail after that. At night before falling asleep her thoughts were riddled with those images, visions of her Bertholdt lying there as the war raged on around him, bleeding freely into the earth which greedily sucked him dry of life as the contents of his torso lay scattered next to him rather than in their proper place. Annie hadn’t cried at this. She remained stony-faced and cold until Reiner told her that as he lay dying there he clutched her picture in his large blood-soaked hand without taking his eyes off of it, until they no longer saw. Upon hearing this the tears in her eyes spilled over and she spent the next days smoking until her throat was raw, throwing up everything she ate, and dreaming of naught but her perceived last moments of Bertholdt, waking from these fitful nightmares with fresh tears streaking her face and unable to clutch her lover to herself.

His warmth in the bed was gone, the cold ring on her finger weighing her down with every step she took.

-

_When she found out about the draft, she paced for a good hour before speaking to him; he waited for her seemingly patiently, but she could tell by the copious amount of sweat on his brow that it hadn’t been easy. She gazed at him fiercely, reaching to grip his hands tightly in her own before her analytical mind allowed her to speak her conclusions._

_“You know what we are. They’ll use that, force you to do dangerous things just because of the blood in your veins and the words from your tongue. Bertholdt, I can’t... I can’t lose you to that,” her voice was ragged from disuse and worry, and his warm hands worked free from her iron grip and delicately cupped her face, sealing their lips together with a murmured promise of return and oath for his life before they fell together in a tangle of limbs and hastily pulled at fabrics as they made love through her vulnerable and raw tears; he held her wrapped in his arms without letting go for the remainder of their time together that night._

-

She wanted to drink, hand inching towards the crystal decanter filled with amber liquid. When cool fingers made contact with cool glass, she jerked them away as if stung. She took that same hand and pressed it absently, softly to her expanding belly as her eyes glazed over while staring at the picture of their wedding day hanging on the wall above the olive-green armchair that was always his. She had only sat in it once ever since the day she received the news, but it was too much as she felt her heart constricting in her chest as if punctured by a thousand needles, blood coursing thick and sluggish through her veins until it almost froze. She stares at the chair now, unable to set even her hand on it. Her other fist is clutched around the dog tags bearing his name, tightly in order to warm them up with what little body heat she had so that it might feel like they belonged around his neck still, placed so close to a very much beating heart.

-

_They had met in 1935, when they were both 14. Reiner had introduced the two of them: he was her neighbor and Bertholdt’s best friend from school. Annie had thought him to be a little too indecisive and unsure of himself at first, but in time she grew fond of his mannerisms and appreciated how much he cared. Their first date was also orchestrated by Reiner some two and a half years later._

_“You take her to a movie, maybe get some ice cream after and talk about what you liked and didn’t like in the film. That way you don’t run out of things to talk about,” Reiner was explaining simply. Annie sometimes wondered whether or not the two of them remembered that she was the Braun’s neighbor and their sitting outside on his porch after school was the opposite of privacy, as in fact she could hear every word of their conversation._

_“I wouldn’t know what to do during the movie, though... I’d be so nervous to be next to her for that long...” Bertholdt’s reply was much softer, but Annie couldn’t help a small smile forming on her face as she sat and ignored her book for the time being in favor of listening to the both of them._

_“You hold her hand if you really want to, but since this is Annie we’re talking about you’d probably let her initiate that,” Reiner chuckled. “That Adventures of Robin Hood movie just came out, take her to that this Friday and thank me later.”_

_When Bertholdt showed up at her door a few hours later (while a suspiciously large quivering hedge hinted that they were being watched of course) Annie said yes without hesitation, as she knew anything of the sort might cause the poor boy’s heart to explode. As they sat together in the dark watching Errol Flynn and Olivia de Havilland kiss passionately on her castle balcony, Annie allowed him to take her hand._

-

The fourth day after her world had been broken beyond repair, Annie received a visit from the sole person she least expected to care. Mikasa Ackerman was someone she regularly butted heads with at the social events they mutually attended, not out of pure competitiveness but simply out of a deeply rooted and unexplainable dislike and distrust. Bloodshot eyes framed by bruise-like contours widened upon seeing the raven-haired Japanese woman at her door; Annie had been told oftentimes by Sasha Braus that they all as descendants of Axis ex-pats needed to stick together and stand strong. Their social group had formed at first as a gathering of fellow Americans born of German or other European parentage, yet soon they were all but completely ostracized as a result of the war.

Mikasa’s presence might have been something to do with Eren’s recent mangling; Annie had heard of this also from Reiner in his letter. Eren was Mikasa’s adoptive brother, another German-born American whose position in battle had cost him his right leg and arm. Annie invited her in and poured her a glass of wine; just because she herself was incapable of drinking in her current state did not mean she would hold out on a guest in her home, regardless of the questionable feelings she had towards the woman. Mikasa took a large gulp of the drink before staring blatantly at the ring on Annie’s finger and the bulge in her stomach.

“I never took you one for children, but I’m glad you’ll be a mother all the same,” she began softly. Annie simply gave her a tight smile. Mikasa’s hands shook as she continued sipping the wine and passed her condolences through messy sentences that Annie wanted to rip from her throat and strangle her with.

“Eren is coming home soon. He can’t... Well. He’s unfit for combat now,” she explained. “Armin is glad. They’ll be together again,” she continued, looking down as her gray eyes turned glassy. For a moment, Annie truly felt sorry for Mikasa; it was a deeply kept secret amongst them all that their Swedish-American friend Armin Arlert and Eren Jaeger were more than just friends. Armin was too frail for the war, and so he remained on the home front anxiously awaiting news just like any other concerned lover. Mikasa’s affection for her brother went in the same direction, as far as Annie could tell, and stung far more than the proud woman would let on.

“At least you’ll have him back,” Annie offered. Her attempt to be genuinely kind backfired as Mikasa’s head snapped up, eyes wide and concerned. Of course, why would she have said something like that when her own husband was lying in his grave?

-

_Their first kiss was clumsy but beautiful. The height difference between the two of them was significant, and so Annie stood on her tiptoes with her small hands curled around his collar while he was bent forward a long ways, large warm hands on her hips and lips moist with nerves and attraction. She broke the first, chaste kiss only to follow it by a more intimate one; not wanting to get too greedy she stopped herself once again and allowed her lungs to fill with air once more as her pulse slowed. “I can hear your heartbeat,” she chuckled softly as she lay her head against his firm chest upon his embracing her. Said rhythm only picked up at these words, and she let out another tinkling bout of laughter before her head was tilted up again and lips pressed against his once more. Surprised but pleasantly so, she smiled softly at him and for the first time in a long time felt her heart fit to burst._

-

The first time the baby kicked, she was alone. Hormones and solitude brought tears to her eyes, and as if sensing mother’s sadness the child immediately ceased movement, still as death. Annie almost was content with this utter stillness, but upon remembering that this growing life inside of her would be the last tangible memory of Bertholdt that she had, she choked back a sob before placing her hands gently on her stomach. Some seconds passed before another gentle kick ricocheted across her system and one hand shot to her mouth to muffle the scream of agony building up and getting ready to bubble forth from her lips. She couldn’t share this moment with him, and the son or daughter to be born was never to know his father.

-

_Their wedding night was magical and they swayed together under the moonlight amidst the laughter and clinking glasses of their friends and loved ones. Annie’s family had contributed a fair share of money into this wedding despite her protests and requests for a simple, quiet ceremony._

_“In times of war, you need to savor moments that you’ll look back on fondly when it’s all over,” her father had surprisingly told her, and never since that moment has a phrase as gentle left Mr. Leonhardt’s lips._

_Annie was comfortable and brimming with a happiness she felt she neither deserved nor expected to last as she and Bertholdt danced together; the music was a mix of their favorites, but many of the songs came from the jazzy smoothness that was Glenn Miller and his Orchestra. When their song’s melody hit her ears, Annie smiled genuinely at her newly wed husband and he leaned down to kiss her to much applause and general merriment from the onlookers. That night would forever be her Moonlight Serenade._

-

Annie’s record player had gathered a fine layer of dust thanks to disuse; music wasn’t something she could stomach these days. On a night when her craving for something alcoholic nearly overwhelmed her, however, she made her way over to it, lifted the dusty cover, and placed the needle carelessly on the middle of the record still inserted on the machine. Moonlight Serenade started up and squeezed her heartstrings so much that she nearly got up and pushed the table over to send the blasted thing scattering across the floor. However the memories of that perfect night with Bertholdt and the love she had felt for him and still did flowed into her through the power of the song; she could almost feel his touch on her waist and his lips kissing the top of her head. She began to sway in her living room, standing alone but moving to the rhythm of the song. She had never noticed just how melancholy it sounded until now, and yet in her delirium she was dancing with Bertholdt again, if just for a while.


	2. Just the Onions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is to be co-written with the help of the very own real-life Bertholdt to my Annie. Our tumblrs are wide open for your perusal if that interests you.
> 
> Annie ~ http://annieleonhartrp.tumblr.com/  
>  Bertholdt ~ http://ask--bertl.tumblr.com/

9/16/1943 - Salerno, Italy.   
  
 Annie,   
  
This is going to be the start of the first letter I'll be sending to you when this operation is over. I'm not really sure how to go about this. I never thought I'd have to write a letter to you regarding this kind of situation. We stormed Salerno, Italy today. It went well, if you want to put casualties and killing to a good name. The weather is nice, warm and sunny. You'd love it here if there weren't bullets flying past your head every few moments. The resistance is very little, nothing we haven't been able to handle so far. Constant shell fire sends waves of sound through the area around me. It's more than unsettling - you don't know who's firing unless you see it. It's still a lot to take in- the gun fire, shell fire, seeing people you got close to get shot and bleed out in your arms because there's nothing you can do when there's machine gun fire roaring past you. Tanks firing left and right, planes dropping napalm. You can almost smell iron in the air from how much spilled blood there is.   
  
How is someone suppose to live with killing dozens of people? I know they're pieces of shit, but they have families and people who love them. I've killed boys, younger than me who probably had no clue why they were in the position they were in, and now, because of me they're not going to grow up happily with someone they love. Then again, maybe they had every idea of what they were doing. Maybe they were giving Hitler full support. It's a bittersweet feeling. You don't know what's wrong and what's right. You're just killing for the cause.   
  
I wonder if you'll ever receive this letter. If it will go through or if I'll live long enough to finish it. My handwriting probably looks like shit, but I've seen so much in the last week, I don't know what is good and what's not. Oh well, I just hope I can come home soon. If it's by me getting injured or being dismissed early. At least I'll be with you.  
  
Enough about me, how are you? How's the house, how are the cats? Are you eating right? Don't make me kick your ass when I get home. You better be taking care of yourself. I don't want to come and see half of your hair is missing and the cat doesn't have a tail- I'm sure you have it all under control though. I'm going to end this here, I should probably get some sleep. I haven't gotten much in the past week. I love you, even more with this distance separating us.  
                        
                See you soon, Bertholdt.    
  
  
  
9/21/1943   
  
 We're making more good progress, the Italians don't seem to have much military experience and the bit they do have isn't doing them well. I'm nervous about pushing forward in more, I know soon we'll reach heavy German resistance. That's something I'd rather not deal with. Last night at dinner I heard stories about the german panzer teams destroying our front lines, I just hope it's died down by the time I have to go.   
  
We're resting for the night. After making the advances we did, we sent troops north to hold out any enemies that try to advance on our position. I'm going to lay down for the night. I probably won't get much sleep anyways, but some is better than none.  
  
I'm hoping I get injured and sent home, it beats finishing my time or getting killed.  
  
After we had won the first parts of battle of Salerno, my close friend Reiner and I sat down in front of a hot burning fire. We were soon joined by the other men in our squad, Eren and Jean. You should know all of them, we’re all from the same area. No one said much of anything, just thanked whatever god they believed in that they had survived the last week. We mourned the loss of who would be the 5th man in our group, his name was Marco. He was killed by an enemy grenade. No one noticed it until it was too late, it landed right next to him and the gun fire covered up the noise of it hitting the ground. I noticed a few tears stream down Eren's cheek, but I didn't say anything, just handed him a rag that I had lying across my lap. I laughed to myself, since Eren didn't know that was the rag I wiped the sweat off of my body with often.  
  
I'll be home soon Annie, stay safe, don't get too lonely. Never in a million years did I think we'd get separated like this, but it's only distance. One that will soon be defeated. I love you.  
  
Bertholdt  
  
~  
  
 _Throat raw from vomiting, limbs weak from the exertion, Annie leaned her face against the cool porcelain of the toilet and restrained herself from crying harder as a few tears slipped down her cheeks and fell into the murky water below. Damn hormones, she hated pregnancy and hated the thought of her Bertholdt stuck god-knows where in Italy while she was here, helpless and useless. She was a vessel for their child, perhaps, but it wasn’t right without him here._  
  
 _She turned her head slowly to set eyes upon the letter which she had left on the floor of the bathroom in her haste to make it before she retched everywhere. She hoped that it was simply morning sickness and not the content of his letter that had set her off, yet a little voice in the back of her mind told her to stop kidding herself. Once this spell of sickness had passed, she would drag herself back to her desk and hastily send him a reply... He needed to know of the potential son or daughter growing inside of her, it might give him hope to press forward, to be less reckless (although Bertholdt never was one for silly actions without a concrete cause)._  
  
 _Annie hoped with all her heart that her child would grow to meet its father... The thought of any other alternative was enough for her to turn and vomit once more._  
  
~  
  
Looking back, Annie could almost laugh at the cruelty of her own thoughts. Clutching the now wrinkled papers in front of her, she rubbed a hand absently across her much more swollen belly and refrained from tears again by biting down hard enough to draw blood from the inside of her cheek. The child kicked as if sensing her pain, but far from easing any of that hurt it simply added more.   
  
She sat in the living room, a glass of wine sitting untouched next to her. She was sorely tempted to down it with one swig, however so far she had resisted. Her heart was beating rather slowly, she thought, blood pulsing sluggishly as if blackening and rotting as she sat there. Decaying all on her own, Annie was crumbling into a million shards of her former self as each day passed.  
  
A gruff knock followed by the door opening signaled that he had arrived; Annie’s gaze flicked briefly towards the wine bottle by her side and knew he would give her a lecture or some sort of pitying look, but all her cares for anything of the sort had vanished a long time ago.  
  
Reiner entered the room with a countenance much like as if he were walking on eggshells. He offered a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, coming to kneel in front of her. He took note of the wine on the table, brow furrowing a little but choosing to not say anything to her. Rather, he pushed the glass towards the far end of the little table and moved to place one large hand on her cheek.   
  
“Annie, what would you like for dinner?” he asked with an attempt at a jovial tone. She knew it was his way of asking how she was doing, if she was feeling any better or spiraling into a further depression.  
  
She thought of Italy.  
  
“Pasta.”  
  
Reiner’s blue eyes flicked to the letter clutched in her hand, and that same almost-smile returned to his face.   
  
“Pasta it is. I’ll make the best plate you’ve had in a while, you and baby will enjoy every mouthful!” he spoke cheerfully, his deep voice resonating through her body as his hand was still connected to her face. She blinked at him, and as a way of gratitude she took his hand in her small one and guided it to her stomach. The child felt the pressure and responded with a fierce kick that caused Reiner to let out a bark of laughter.  
  
“Little one’s happy to get a visit from Uncle Reiner, I knew it!” he smiled genuinely this time, and it was enough for Annie in that moment to either smile back or burst into tears. She chose a third option, as apathy was something she was familiar with and terribly good at.  
  
~  
  
10/17/1943  
  
Annie,  
  
Sorry it's taken so long to write back. You know how war goes... Well... You kind of do. I hope you never have to experience it like I have.  
  
I guess this is a sort of difficult letter to write upon hearing the news. I'm happy, none the less. Just sad I can't be there with you to go through your mood swings, feel them kick for the first time, and what ever else goes on during pregnancy.   
  
Are you doing okay? How far along are you? Fill me in on the details because I can't wait to come home to you and our child when they're born. Hopefully I can come home before then to be with you.   
  
Things are still going slow. We haven't covered much ground recently. The Germans, now that we're heavy into their territory, are holding us off. But between the massive amount of tanks we deploy, our mortar strikes and men, we should be able to push through soon. Hopefully, anyways. I'm in a quiet town right now. I don't know the name, but it's cold. You can see the mountains from here. They're beautiful. Not as beautiful as you of course but, they're close.  
  
I'm going to end this short, I wish I had more to write m'love but. Nothing’s been going and the whole baby things is still a huge, huge shock. I can't wait to hear from you again. I love you.  
  
Bertholdt  
  
~  
  
  
Her heart couldn’t handle all this turmoil. She likened the feeling to a slow but consistent dripping of acid onto that vital organ, once or twice per day, or however long it would take until she could no longer feel anything due to the corrosion eating her away into nothingness. She found herself clutching at her chest during the times that it was most painful, as it was a sharp sensation that made it difficult to breathe to an extent.  
  
Lingering, pushing, consuming, his absence was going to drive her into insanity and she was already far enough down the road to admit this to herself.  
  
~  
  
 _She told herself she wouldn’t be weak and let tears fall unless they were warranted for something like direct physical trauma. One evening as she was cooking dinner in the company of Sasha and their friend Mina this became something of an issue._  
  
 _Music crackling from the radio, Sasha was singing along while mashing the potatoes and Mina checked the meat for the fifth time as it browned in the oven. Annie was fixing the salad, chopping tomatoes and onions and bell peppers with a skilled knife hand that she remembered had startled Bertholdt the first time she’d really had to use it... Disarming a mugger after one of their date nights in the dark and leaving a fair sized nick in the guy’s throat as she threatened him within an inch of his life._  
  
 _“Annie, I swear I don’t know how you don’t slice your fingers off chopping that quickly,” Mina commented with wide eyes. Annie’s never left her task, but she let out a hum of noncommittal acknowledgement to her friend’s point._  
  
 _“Your dad taught you how to cook and all sorts of stuff, right Annie?” Sasha spoke through a mouthful of the green beans she was also supposed to be tending to. Annie managed a small smile._  
  
 _“And all sorts of stuff, yes,” she murmured._  
  
 _“I hope the boys are eating as well as we are tonight, it really makes me feel bad whenever I cook nowadays...” the brunette continued, large eyes turning sad as she thought of her own beau, Connie, who happened to be in Bertholdt’s squad. All those who had been sent to the war effort from their area were also put through training together and ultimately assigned as a troop collectively. Sometimes Annie thought this was both a blessing and a curse._  
  
 _“Thomas sent me a letter, it got in yesterday... He hurt his legs so he’s out of commission for a while as he heals,” Mina spoke softly as she poked at the meat with a toothpick and watched the dark red blood ooze out from the puncture. Annie thought of Bertholdt and how lucky he seemed to be, skilled in everything he attempted but oh so gentle at the same time... His luck might run out someday, and that was a thought she couldn’t bear._  
  
 _As Sasha and Mina continued to chatter, Annie kept chopping. Her eyes blurred, and she suppressed a gasp of outrage as her body began to betray her with tears._  
  
 _“Annie, is something wrong?”_  
  
 _She had stilled the knife, and no longer hearing the sound of salad ingredients being crushed under the blade was enough to turn Sasha and Mina’s attention towards her. She blinked, letting out a slow breath and letting her hair cover her face a bit more._  
  
 _“Just the onions,” she mumbled. The lie was swallowed simply because it was the only thing they could do._  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gives you a bit of Bertl for once, so there you go.
> 
> Sad Annie is heartbreakingly wonderful for me to write, actually.

**Author's Note:**

> The song from which I derive the title is Moonlight Serenade by Glenn Miller and his Orchestra. You can listen to this beautiful melody here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_X8sz_wgrSc
> 
> I'm sorry if any of your favorite pairings are absent from this fic so far... But as you could tell, this is set in the 1940s so I only opted for one same-sex pairing (so far) not out of discrimination or anything of the sort (as a LOT of my personal OTPs are actually gay hahah) but simply because back then I'm fairly sure it wasn't all that common. I left one in there for posterity, however.
> 
> Any comments or questions, even suggestions are widely encouraged and appreciated!


End file.
